That's God Dang Prostitution!
by Kagu-tsuchi-13
Summary: Hank thought that he had a good, stable marriage. That was until Peggy did the unspeakable. The kind of thing that only a husband should do for his wife.


**This was originally a joke I told a friend one night while we were having a beer and watching King of the Hill. He thought it was hilarious and inspired me to make it into an actual story.**

**Disclaimer: I am not the very talented Mike Judge who gave us two great shows and one shitty one.**

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Rainy Street, which was normally filled with the laughter of children and the smell of clean, burning fuel from the Vagner Char-Kings, had a metaphorical dark cloud over it. The cause, one Peggy Hill, former substitute Spanish teacher, turned former journalist, turned former real estate agent, had done something so horrible that no one dared mention it. Also, no one but one knew what it was.

Hank Hill, the proud assistant manager of Strickland Propane, who would normally "delight" his three companions with stories about his day at Strickland Propane and how he had made someone's day by selling them propane and/or propane accessories, was being surprisingly quiet, only occasionally taking sips from his can of Alamo beer.

Bill, the bald, obese, Army barber, who was notoriously known for living his life through the man he idolized, was the first to take notice.

"Hank, is something wrong, you haven't said anything since you came home?" Bill asked the man, very concerned.

"I don't want to talk about," Hank sighed, as he crushed his empty can and dropped it to the ground, not even bothering to put it in the recycle box, like he always made the others do.

"Good, because I don't want to hear about it," Dale, the scrawny, overly paranoid, exterminator stated, before lighting up a cigarette.

"Mhm," Boomhauer, the usually silent, ladies man, said in an attempt to cut the awkward tension.

"I can no longer fit into the jeans at Mega-Lo-Mart, I had to go to Dave's Big and Tall, it was embarrassing, everyone there was tall, I was the only one that was big," Bill said, before taking a deep sigh. "I need a cheesecake."

"It's not your fault, the government has been putting chemicals into our breakfast cereals that causes the body to store abnormally large amounts of body fat, it's all to insulate our bodies for the cold climate of Canada," Dale rambled. "Which we all all be forced to move to after the Japanese and Mongolians team up to take over the country."

"Oh thank goodness, I thought it was my fault, now I can eat that ham I bought," Bill sighed.

Hank, who was on the verge of blowing his top, finally turned to the two men. "God dang it, would you guys shut up?" he ordered, the vein on his neck bulging. "Bill, you are fat because you sit on your god dang ass all day and stuff your face with enough junk food to feed a small village in Colorado."

"I don't think there are any villages in Colorado," Bill said meekly, before turning away, not wanting to piss Hank off further.

Hank then turned to Dale. "And you, god dang it, Dale! You can't go five minutes without stating some asinine theory. The martians are communicating with me through the crackling in my Rice Krispies. Hitler sent me a message in my bowl of oatmeal. The static on my radio is really an alien warlord contacting me in Morse Code. You are so god dang stupid that you can't even realize that your own wife was-."

Hank managed to stop himself before he opened up that can of worms. He stood there, his shoulders clenching and his chest heaving. He hadn't been so angry since the time Luanne picked up dinner from a vegan restaurant.

Dale, unlike Bill, looked indifferent. "Just so you know, it wasn't Morse Code, it was an alien form of Braille and it wasn't oatmeal, it was Cream of Wheat."

Hank said nothing, just walked back in, before his anger got the best of him and he started kicking a certain balding exterminator's ass.

"Isn't Braille what blind use to read?" Bill asked, after Hank was safely in the house.

"To us mere humans, but to the aliens it is something else, it all started-" Dale said as he went off on one of his made up theories.

Boomhauer just stood there, wondering why he didn't go to bars anymore.

Meanwhile, Hank had sat down at the kitchen table, he thought about having another Alamo, but didn't want to associate this kind of pain with beer. This kind of pain was put in a a new transmission in your truck pain. He would have to go to the junkyard later and pick up a transmission, even though his still worked perfectly.

"Hey, uncle Hank," Luanne called out as she walked into the kitchen and went to the refrigerator.

"Don't you have a house of your own?" the man asked, very annoyed and not wanting to deal with his perky niece and her idiotic husband.

"I have a problem, I need your help," Luanne said, while pulling a can of root beer out and closing the refrigerator door.

"What is it?" the man asked, wanting to be alone with his thoughts.

"I forgot to wear a bra today, do you think anyone noticed?" she asked, while pointing to her chest, her nipples clearly visible through her shirt.

Hank said nothing, but got up and walked out of the room, to a confused niece. Why was everyone around him an idiot?

The rest of the afternoon, Hank kept himself busy in the garage, fixing things that didn't need to be fixed. A confused Bobby kept in his room, playing video games and such.

Peggy, wanted desperately to say something, but feared to go near her husband. She hadn't been this afraid since the time she bought charcoal. She immensely regretted what she did, but didn't think it was such a big deal at the time. It was no worse than anything Nancy had done.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She had to say something. Frightened, she knocked on the garage door.

"Hank, can I come in?" she asked, her voice shaky.

"You don't need my permission," the man said, hammering nails into board, then pulling them back out.

"Hank, I'm really, really, really, really sorry. I wish I could go back in time and do it over, I would, believe me," she said sincerely.

"Well you can't, I thought we had a good marriage, we share a god dang checking account," the man said, throwing his hammer down in anger, then picking it back up and putting it on the wall.

"Hank, I love you, you know that, we have a child together," Peggy said, trying to reach out to him."It's not as bad as you are making it out to be."

Hank turned to her, his eyes filled with fire. "You had to go and pay a man for his services, that's god dang prostitution."

"Hank, I don't think it's prostitution, he was there, I needed it, he was more than willing, and the price was reasonable," she tried to assure him.

"That's prostitution, that kind of thing should only be done by a husband," he told her. "I would have done it for you, I wanted to do it for you."

"I would have let you if you were there," she told him.

"So, the second I'm not there, you go and cheat on our marriage," the man said, before turning away again.

Peggy didn't know what else to say, so for once, she just turned around and walked back in the house.

Hank tried to keep busy, but his mind was too out of it. Maybe, he could talk to Nancy. She knew a thing or two about being unfaithful.

He heard the door open again. Bobby stuck his head in the door. "Are you and mom going to get a divorce?" he asked his father, very concerned.

"I don't know son, I don't know," the man sighed.

"If you do I want to stay with the one that gets the house," Bobby informed.

Hank sighed and walked out of the garage. He desperately needed to be alone.

"I am not staying in some dingy apartment!" Bobby screamed out. He had just gotten his posters and Troll Dolls the way he liked them and he would be darned if he had to start over.

The propane salesman decided to take a walk and clear his head. No matter how many times he went over it in his head, he still couldn't believe it. After twenty years of what he thought was a solid marriage, his wife went and did it.

She paid a mechanic to change her oil!

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**As said at the beginning, this story started when my friend and I were watching the show and my friend asked me if I think that Hank would pay someone to change his oil. I responded that there was no way and that Hank would think that it was prostitution. That's when I got the idea and expanded on it.**

**While I'm sure the real Hank would be upset, I doubt he'd go as far as he did in this story, but then again who knows with Hank.**


End file.
